Nathan stood in the center of the gym, seething. The laughter and whispers behind him were distant echoes, drowned out by the deafening rush of blood in his ears. He wanted to tear Skylar apart, rip the mic from her hands and make her regret every word she'd just read—but then he remembered Rory.
She ran.
She was hurting.
And she needed him.
With one final glare at Skylar, Nathan spun on his heel and bolted from the dance floor, ignoring Peter calling after him. His heartbeat thudded against his ribs as he pushed through the doors and into the hallway, his eyes scanning for her.
There.
She was curled against the wall, her arms wrapped around her midsection, her hands covering her face. He could hear her crying—soft, broken sobs that shattered him in ways fists never could.
“Rory…” h
